


The Night is Dark and Full of Terrors

by SambliongPalpatine



Category: The Last Kingdom (TV)
Genre: Feels, M/M, Maybe not a fix-it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:54:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29532291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SambliongPalpatine/pseuds/SambliongPalpatine
Summary: Hello my dudes, I’m just dipping my toes in these crazy waters and I had a lot of frels. So I dedicated an hour of my beauty sleep to write this mess. If you have prompts, drop ‘em.This happens somewhere between 2x04-06.
Relationships: Alfred the Great/Uhtred of Bebbanburg
Comments: 8
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my dudes, I’m just dipping my toes in these crazy waters and I had a lot of frels. So I dedicated an hour of my beauty sleep to write this mess. If you have prompts, drop ‘em. 
> 
> This happens somewhere between 2x04-06.

Alfred stops a few inches away from the door, unsure of himself for once. He knows he is being selfish; that he has hurt, pulled and pushed the man to the limit. He knows, in a dark and hidden corner of his heart and mind, that it is because he is afraid. 

He is afraid of accepting the trust he has for the man. The man who is so similar and yet so different to himself, so brave, so... loyal. 

How is it that a Pagan, a heathon who denies the true God, can be so loyal? So... good? Alfred has no doubt that Uhtred would serve him willingly and with no need for trickery. And that scares him. 

He needs control over Uhtred because otherwise- otherwise all the feelings he has for the man would break loose and then what?

Then what?

Alfred shakes his head and pushes the door open without a second thought. 

Uhtred is sat crosslegged on the floor, a whetstone in one hand gliding down his sword’s body. His dark locks pulled up and- he is shirtless. 

And oh by God all those scars. 

‘I’ve been a slave,’ he had said. Had he not?

Oh God, he even was branded. There is the proof in one of his shoulders. Someone dared to- someone had the gulls to brand Uhtred. 

‘I’ve been a slave’ and he understands it now. The plea, the pain, in the dane’s eyes. 

But it was more than slavery, wasn’t it? A brand means propriety. Isn’t that similar to what Alfred himself has tried to, though subtly, do?

Uhtred who’s always been a free spirit. 

But hasn’t he, Alfred, tried to shackle the man to the crown? The Kingdom? God, he hadn’t come prepared to be confronted by it. 

For an irrational, outlandish second, he wishes the slaver hadn’t been killed so he could do it himself. 

In the same minute Alfred is taking all this, in one smooth move Uhtred gets to his feet and turns around. 

"Lord," he greets coldly, going to prop his precious sword against the wall. 

Alfred is just standing there, staring at Uhtred’s shirtlessness. At the scars. 

Alfred has always known that the dane was beautiful and this, instead of diminishing it, exacerbates that idea. 

"Lord." Uhtred calls again impatiently. "Did you need anything? Or you just have come to... accuse me of something," he glares at him. 

That helps Alfred remember himself. "I am the King, Uhtred," he says because it bares reminding. 

The other scoffs, smiling ironically. "Yes," he nods. "You never let me forget that."

Many times after Hild had delivered the news of Uhtred’s enslavement, Alfred had imagined what it would be like to be enslaved. The conclusion he arrived to was terrifying. 

The thing is; he already knows what it feels like because the crown is a slaver. A slaver that allows him to enslave others. 

Uhtred raises an eyebrow, tossing the sharpening instrument to the corner. "I thought you weren’t the kind to visit servants’ rooms," he says, not making no effort to put a shirt on. 

Alfred straightens, replacing his kingly mask on. Why is he really here? Why couldn’t he be satisfied with seeing him earlier? He had to make sure- he had to reassure himself that Uhtred is really here, alive and whole. 

But is he, though, whole? 

‘I’ve been a slave’ Uhtred had said. Alfred can see that now, all over his body. 

"I just wanted to make sure you hadn’t tried to flee,” he glares, trying not to show how shaky he actually feels. 

Uhtred scowls, his beautiful face darkening. "I still have my other shoulder, if you would prefer to brand me," he offers, the dispassion in his voice freezes Alfred’s insides. "I could give you my knife and tell you how to do this," he continues, looking to where said weapon is. 

‘I’ve been a slave.’ Alfred understands and he is disgusted. 

"If that is what your god does then I’m glad to stay with mine," the dane snarls, returning his flashing eyes to Alfred. 

"No," the King says firmly. "That is not it." 

Uhtred’s nostrils flare. "Lord," the scornful tone makes Alfred flinch. "I think you have ensured my servitude enough," he says. 

Alfred swallows, briefly looking away. "You are not my slave," he tries but knows he isn’t half as convincing as he hoped. 

"Am I not?" the other barks a short, jarring laugh. "You may not use a physical whip but words and actions cut just as deep." 

Something hurt and broken appears in those blue eyes but it is gome the next instant. Still, not fast enough for Alfred not to catch it. 

"Is that what you rescued me for?" Uhtred spits, though there is a fait tremor in his words. 

"It’s not like that." Alfred says and Christ, where did his iron-will go? Where is his kingliness, for God’s sake?

"No?" Uhtred smiles ironically. "Then please explain it to me," he demands. 

And oh, the insolence, Alfred has to make an effort not to smile. 

Alfred gives him a look because he is still the King. "Because Wessex, England, needs you," he goes with that because it is simpler than the truth. A truth not meant for the dane’s ears. 

Uhtred scoffs. "I’ve been loyal, Lord. For years," he grumbls, not having moved an inch. "I have chosen you over my family," he adds in an undertone, his eyes shine. 

This is not why he had come. Again, why had he? He is King, what is he doing here?

That feels like a punch because it is true. Still. "Uhtred," he starts quietly. But what exactly does he want to say? 

Uhtred is looking at him with those too-keen eyes of his and something inside Alfred shifts. This... feeling is more than carnal desire. He loves Uhtred, there is no denying it now. 

He loves this dane, this pagan warrior, who’s made a habit of contradicting and testing and disobeying him. He loves him, always has. 

Curious thing though, his cross doesn’t burn. Not as he thought it might by admitting to this kind of proclivities. He supposes that if God is really good he would never punish someone for loving another person. 

"Lord." Uhtred speaks, a tiny crack appears in his voice. 

Alfred comes back to himself, stares at his warrior and finally takes the remaining steps towards Uhtred and touches the scar on his face. 

Uhtred’s eyes widen, never expecting gentleness from Alfred and that just constricts his heart. Therefor he keeps on touching him. To show him that he can be gentle, without ulterior motives. 

Uhtred shuts his eyes, exhaling slowly, shakily. Alfred," he breathes out. 

Alfred’s heart stops and restarts even faster at the emotion in his voice. Not a single person has ever pronounced his name like that. 

As if Alfred were important just for being Alfred. 

He is touching Uhtred and his cross isn’t burning. 

Uhtred is reluctant when wrapping his arms around Alfred’s waist but then- then, when he kisses him- he doesn’t hesitate. 

Alfred burries a hand in the dark tresses and ties them around his fingers and tugs gently, eliciting a breathy moan from Uhtred. 

He smiles inwardly at being the cause of such reaction. He knows there are things that will forever remain unsaid, too many if he is honest with himself but as they continue to kiss, he is sure Uhtred feels for him as well. 

And that, that is all that matters.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you have some post 2x08 smut and feels. 
> 
> I know I’m years lafe but I just finished season 3 and it broke my heart. I mean, that 9th episode... christ. What with Alfred dying and asking Uhtred if he was real or an hallucination.

Alfred is, once again, looking for Uhtred in the middle of the night. What is wrong with him that he finds himself creeping through the halls of his palace just to seek the Dane out? 

But he has to see him because- because- he needs him. He needs Uhtred with a passion. A passion he’s never felt for anyone before. 

And of all people out there it had to be a heathen who awake that part of him. At first he had denied, rejected and rebelled against it with a lot of prayer and washing. 

Provoking and pushing Uhtred. 

After their kiss when the man had been rescued everything spiraled down again, as is their wont. Because God knows the man makes it difficult. 

But Alfred is tired, tired of their same old dance of pushing and pulling. 

Besides, Alfred is only human and one taste had been enough for him to crave more. 

So he pushes open the door to Uhtred’s room and latches it close behind himself. 

He finds the man in the middle of washing-which is surprising to Alfred- so he stops in the center of the chamber. Because there Uhtred stands; shirtless and with his hair unbound, water droplets sliding down his toned chest... a pang of want shoots through his body. 

Uhtred turns, wearily reticent, and folds his arms. "Lord," he says, looking at him with hostility, "are you making it a habit of seeking your servants at the midst of night?" he asks. 

Alfred bristles, not liking the accusation in his voice. "I am glad to see you didn’t lose your impudence," he snaps. 

Uhtred snorts, leaning back on the table. "Why are you here?" he sounds so tired and Alfred understands it is more than simple physical tiredness. "You have made abundantly clear you neither trust nor know me. That you cannot," he continues in a monotone. "So why come here?"

Alfred swallows thickly, his stomach twists in knots-and not because of his sickness. "You certainly make it difficult to do so," he speaks harsher than he intended. "You-" he breaks off, perhaps a little unwilling to speak the next words. 

"And yet you are ready to trust in what others say about me," the Dane retorts. 

Alfred stares at him blankly; he knows Uhtred is right, he believes in the word of others. And all because they are christian and Uhtred insists in holding to his pagan ways. 

Hasn’t Uhtred proven himself to be loyal time and again? Even more so than some called christians. 

"Why want me to serve if you don’t trust me?" there is something imploring in his eyes that Alfred wishes he could erase. 

Not yet though. 

He raises his chin and clasps his hands behind his back. “Do you trust me, Uhtred?" he asks, wanting to test the other man. 

Uhtred looks at him silently for a long moment before exhaling slowly. "I do," he replies simply and truthful. 

Alfred’s breath catches at those words. It should be evident, right? After everything they have been through together, it should be obvious. So obvious that it escaped Alfred. 

"Uhtred," he whispers and walks towards the man, to touch his cheek, to feel his breath against his skin, to- but Uhtred pulls back with a scowl. Alfred’s heart bangs against his ribs painfully. "Uhtred," he says firmly but quietly. "I want to trust you," he confesses. 

Uhtred’s head snaps forward, his eyes wide; conflicting emotions converging in the blue depths. "What else am I supposed to do, Lord?" he asks somewhat harshly. "If after everything I’ve done you still don’t trust me then nothing I do would make you do so," there is a sliver of heartbreak in his voice. 

Alfred lowers his head, not able to stand the sorrow in the man’s face. There is conflict in his heart as well; sorrow, disbelief, hope... love. His heart has been at war for so long that it’s about time he solved it. 

So he pulls the small vial of oil out of his tunic’s pocket and pushes it into Uhtred’s hand with a meaningful look. Let him make of it what he will. 

Uhtred looks between him and the vial in bewilderment before settling on him, expression guarded. "Is this something you’d hold against me later?"

"Is that something you think I would do?" he asks carefully. 

Uhtred says nothing, he only stares unnervingly at him. As if he could see into his soul. Maybe if he could they would have avoided the misunderstandings and heartache. 

Alfred swallows. He feels dread starting to pool in his belly because how could he have been so stupid? Coming to Uhtred in the middle of the night to- he flushes just thinking about it. God, the man has a wife and children why would he want Alfred back? Does he even fancy men? Even if he did, could he- would he want Alfred? He came here, made himself vulnerable giving the Dane that vial and he- 

Uhtred kisses him. 

Alfred’s heart does something too complicated to try describe. He returns the kiss hesitantly at first but as Uhtred wraps his arms around his waist to pull him closer, Alfred lets himself go. 

He wraps his arms around Uhtred’s shoulders, palms against his skin to try touch everywhere he can; to feel the play of muscles underneath; the raise of every scar, the brand... this is the first time he touches it and realizes it is rather a scar than a brand. Alfred ignores the churning of his insides iñ lieu of continuing exploring the plane of skin he has in his hands. 

But Uhtred is pulling away, making a trickle of anxiety run down Alfred’s back at the possibility of rejection. Uhtred notices though, and smirking, he tosses the vial onto the mattress. 

"Is this what you desire?" he asks quietly. 

Alfred doesn’t hesitate. "I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t," he answers, staring directly at the Dane. 

Uhtred nods and kisses him again. He unties Alfred’s robes, letting them pool on the floor. He starts biting kisses down Alfred’s neck, leaving his own kind of written evidence of his pass through Alfred’s body, ripping a moan from him. 

He, however, is by no means staying passive so he takes a handful of Uhtred’s hair, yanking the man’s head back to bite his own kisses on Uhtred’s neck. The sound he makes would make even the most pius man blush but that only serves to excite Alfred more. 

Uhtred’s fingers work deftly to unlace Alfred’s breaches, creating enough friction for his already straining cock; he bites down on Uhtred’s shoulder to not let out the sound. 

"Uhtred," he gasps when the man wraps his big, warm palm around his engorged flesh. 

The man chuckles darkly and oh god, he is sure he could die like this; rapt with pleasure brought by this Dane-saxon warrior. This pagan who touches him confidently and makes his skin crawl with desire. 

"Ah- ah," he breathes out, tugging at Uhtred’s owm laces. He undoes them quickly, seeking between the folds for Uhtred’s erection to elicit such responses from him. He isn’t disappointed. 

Uhtred groans deep in his throat and without ceremony starts pushing Alfred towards the bed. He allows himself to be lowered onto the mattress with Uhtred crawling atop him. 

He starts showering kisses and nips to Alfred’s chest, gently licking and bitting one of his nipples while he teases the other with his fingers and oh-oh- it is like nothing he’s ever felt before. Uhtred caresses his body with a surety and care that, admittedly, he never expected from this dane. 

Uhtred continues his trail down Alfred’s body, stoping to pay special care to his ailing stomach; gently touching fingertips and lips to the skin. Alfred could cry because it is too much and yet not enough. He needs... he needs more. 

And God, isn’t he selfish? Uhtred has given him so much yet here Alfred was, wanting to take it all until there is nothing left. But as Alfred-the man- he has never been selfish, if ever there was a time to be so now is when. 

"Uhtred," he whispers, pleads. 

He nudges the man with his knee, wanting to get his attention. Uhtred lifts his head and quirks an eyebrow, surely with a retort ready but before he can talk Alfred shoves the vial in his face. 

The man smirks, kneeling he takes it. "Impatient much," he teases. 

Indeed Alfred doesn’t have the patience to wait. So he props himself on his elbows and levels Uhtred with a look. "Yes," he says through gritted teeth. 

They stare at each other for long moments, not even in this the man gives ground. But oh how Alfred wants him. 

Finally Uhtred huffs and uncorks the oil, coating his fingers in it. He looks at Alfred searchingly and when he finds whatever answer he wanted, he bends down and takes Alfred whole into his mouth. 

This time he cannot prevent the moans from escaping. Uhtred works with careful urgency as he prepares Alfred while giving him a distraction from the discomfort. 

Alfred grips the blanket tightly, his skin tingling, sweat starting to pool on his collarbones. He never thought he could feel this good, this pleasure. Not even when laying with women. 

Uhtred retreats his fingers and Alfred won’t be mentioning the obscene noise he lets out in prayers. Still, he wants-needs-those skillful fingers back. 

He looks up, ready to order the man but Uhtred is giving him such a look; full of... adoration and wonder and- and- the words die in his mouth. Uhtred’s eyes glisten and he impulsively leans in to steal a kiss. But Alfred isn’t letting him pull away so he wraps his arms around Uhtred’s broad shoulders to keep him close. 

There’s a smile in that kiss, who it belongs to is irrelevant. 

Uhtred enters him slowly, probably not wanting to hurt him. 

"Alfred." Uhtred whispers, sending a jolt of pleasure and arousal through the King’s body. The way his name rolls on the Dane’s tongue is so exquisite... Alfred wants to hear it every day. 

Once he is fully seated, he pauses to let Alfred adjust but he won’t have none of it. He leans into Uhtred to whisper at his ear. "Move, Uhtred," he commands. 

Surprisingly, or really not, the man starts to move. Alfred would laugh because of course this is when this impossible man decides to obey him. But Uhtred touches something inside him that has Alfred seeing stars so all laughter is forgotten. 

It feels so good, all the sensations, the pleasure... Uhtred’s callused hand on his skin opens a new world of sensations he never considered possible. That he never dared imagine. 

Caressing the Dane’s back, with all the scars, feels like one of the most intimate acts. He has seen scars before, of course, but he never considered touching them. Now he can’t stop. This is an indirect way to know the man, even if he doesn’t know the stories. Uhtred’s body shows he is not only a warrior but also a survivor. 

He is beautiful. 

Uhtred strokes him in tandem with his thrusts, wringing such pleased noises from him, his body singing and oh-oh- even his ailment has vanished from his mind. 

Alfred meets his climax first with Uhtred’s name in his lips. All his body tingles and shakes and he is sure he will never be the same after this. 

He is a little disappointed though when the man rolls off of him after meeting his own climax with Alfred’s name and one last kiss. Still they are both sated and content. 

"Why now?" Uhtred says to the cieling, breaking the comfortable silence. 

Alfred gives it some thought; why now and not before. Before so much pain. Before, when their connection didn’t have these many strains. Why, indeed. "Because," he starts, testing the words in his head. "I fhought this... thing that draws me to you was temporary, that soon it would pass. I was not willing to commit adultery, again, just for a fancy," he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "Now that I know it is not that, I realized I am one step closer to death," he exhales slowly. "If it is not now then I am not sure I would be able to, later," he whispers this last part. 

He hears the intake of breath from the other man but he doesn’t turn to see. His heart is racing, his eyes still shut firmly. He cannot breathe the word ‘love,’ not yet. 

"Is this something you would like repeat?" Uhtred asks quietly. 

Alfred snaps his eyes open, turns his head and stares at the man in bafflement. "Is that something you would want?" he says, not able to hide the slight tremor in his voice. 

Uhtred rolls his eyes and stands up. "Would I be asking if I didn’t?" he walks towards the table with the washing-basin and rinses himself. 

After cleaning themselves Alfred surprises them both by laying down next to his warrior again. Uhtred is lazily laying on his stomach; face buried in the pillow, his arms around his head, his hair covering him. Alfred rests on his side, his fingers tracing the scars on Uhtred’s back gently. "They still hurt?"

"Sometimes," is the lazy answer. 

Alfred’s heart clenches. "Do you still think yourself lucky?" he asks quietly. The noncommittal hum in response makes him explain further. "You have now been tested in battle many times, you have known hardship and... loss," he says quieter. "So, are you still lucky?"

Uhtred moves his left arm away so he doesn’t have to lift his head. "I am," he answers, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I have a wife and children," he smiles now. "I have my life."

Alfred stares at his serene expression, his fingers still on the scars. "Do you remember when you were to fight Leofric to the death?" he asks without knowing why. 

Uhtred’s visible eyebrow frowns at him. "Alfred," and God he will never tire of hearing his name in that low, gravelly accent, "why are you asking me this?"

"I could not see more than a minute of that fight. I couldn’t bare the thought of-" he cuts himself off, not sure what he would be admitting to if he continues. 

"Of watching me kill your man?" Uhtred asks. 

Alfred takes his hand away and puts it under the pillow. "Of watching him kill you."

Uhtred smirks. "Are you saying you care for me, Lord?"

This man is impossible. 

Alfred stares at him, internally chastising himself for trying to be open with him because the man won’t take him seriously. 

Uhtred, however, is looking at him softly, no trace of insolence nor mockery in his expression. He pulls Alfred’s hand from under the pillow and laces their fingers together. Neither of them says anything; they just lay there, staring at each other, their hands between them, no words needed. 

He wishes he could have Uhtred like this forever. 

A mischievous glint appears in the man’s eyes and Alfred only has a minute before Uhtred is rolling onto his back, using the hold he has on Alfred’s hand to yank him on top of him. "Too much talking," he grins up at him. "I think if’s my turn to show you I trust you."

Alfred stays motionless for a few seconds before leaning in and kissing him. 

M

"


End file.
